You'll Work Yourself to Death, Strider!
by alienxginsberg
Summary: In which Dirk has volunteered himself to write all of the lab reports for his lab partners. How else would he make sure they were perfect? Jake, his roommate and boyfriend, notices his performance anxiety and insists that Dirk not give up on his beauty sleep for a dumb report. One-shot flash fic. Rated T for language.


JAKE: STOP DIRK FROM WORKING HIMSELF TO DEATH!

Dirk can be... well... He overthinks things a lot, shall I say? He takes a lot of responsibility on himself that is much better off shared. He stresses himself out with due dates and a needless amount of projects that he insists _must_ be done, but could easily be handled by someone else. You worry about him sometimes... No, that's a lie. You worry about him a lot.

"I'm home!" you shout, as you slam the door to your apartment behind you. Your roommate sits at the "dining table" in the small space between your kitchen and living room. The only light on in the room is the lamp he pulled from the other side of the room, so that it could loom over his shoulder as he types... furiously, "Good gravy, Dirk, why's it so dark?"

"I couldn't concentrate with all the other lights on," Dirk responds.

"Please tell me that's not another school project," he doesn't answer, "Fucking Christ, Dirk! You do this everytime! How long have you been sitting there?" You set down your bag by the door and shimmy off your jacket, hanging it on the rack.

"Not long enough, Jake. I assure you," he doesn't stop his typing.

"What is it this time?" You kick your shoes off as you make your way to the table to examine what he's sweating over.

"A lab report," his response is clipped with concentration and you swear to god you see a small bead of sweat make its way from his temple to his chin, "several, actually."

"What, your lab partners aren't picking up the slack? Or did you volunteer yourself?"

"Jake..." Dirk starts his sentence off with a warning tone, but you ignore it entirely.

"God dammit," you shake your head and slide your hands off the table, "Fine. While you work yourself assless I'm going to go take a shower. You might want to think about the sleep this is costing you... and the cuddles!" You make sure to add that last part when you slam the door of your master bedroom. As you make your way to the bathroom you strip, eager to get into the shower. You're all sweaty and gross from working in your college's greenhouse and interestingly enough, despite how much you love plants, you _hate_ the greenhouse. It's way too stuffy and sometimes Aranea is in there...

To dispel the dark, grim thoughts that suddenly became you, you stepped into the now warm shower. You wonder if Dirk will get himself to bed this time or if you'll have to drag him instead. More than likely it'll be the later. At least, you can give him the benefit of the doubt and treat yourself to a nice long shower, right? No harm in that.

Your shower lasts, maybe no longer than 15 minutes (as you said, you were going to take a long one) and the moment you finish you dry off with one of your nicer towels, leaving the bathroom satisfied and clean. Before even thinking about checking on Dirk, you throw on some pajamas and throw the towel over your wet hair. You open up the bedroom door, peeking out. Dirk is still hovering over the keyboard. He takes a break while you're watching him though to sigh heavily and throw his glasses onto the table before going back to his work, squinting intensely at the screen while he typed.

Oh! Right... You, Jane, and Roxy still need to drag him to the eye doctor... Not looking forward to that. No sir. Dirk is going to pitch a right _fit_. He'll have to deal with it though! It's worth not having to deal with his horrid migraines.

You step out of the room and eye Dirk up and down, "You're still working."

"I've been here for like... five minutes, English. Chill. I'm almost done," he snaps at you, not looking up from his work.

"Oh. Alright then," you respond in a condescending voice, " I'll just come back in _30 minutes_ and you'll just tell me you're 'almost done' again! You do this every time, Strider!" You lean against the table, minding where your wet hair drips.

"I'm serious! I'm almost done. Just... let me get it right, Jake," Dirk stops his typing for just a moment to look at you, "Please?"

You roll your eyes and say in a soft voice, as you turn away, "Fine. That's fine. Just swell. Splendid, even." You can't say that you aren't angry with Strider (he does this way too often for you to not be upset), but you definitely pity him at this point. He's so consumed with this performance anxiety that it's beginning to take a toll on his health and well being and you aren't very good at convincing anyone about anything enough to make a change!

"Hey Jake," You turn around, to see him look at you with raised eyebrows, "I swear. I'll be done in just a second," You nod unconvinced and walk back into your room, pushing the door to. You sigh and flop onto the large queen sized bed the two of you share and grab the remote immediately, turning the television on. You have to keep yourself awake so that you can pull Dirk away from his work. If you go to sleep now he'll work all through the night and into the morning.

The mindless television was just enough to keep you awake at least to some degree. You take a moment during a commercial break to glance over at the clock. 2 AM already? Good Lord, maybe it was a bit more mindless than you previously thought... You throw your legs over the side of the bed and open the bedroom door, looking out at Dirk. You would smile if you weren't so worried. Dirk has his chin propped up on his hand and his eyes are slowly drifting open and closed. You quietly make your way over to the other's table and shake him a little bit.

"Dirk?" He shoots up right, almost clocking his head against yours. His eyes dart to the time on his computer and he rubs his face tiredly, groaning a little bit, "You should head on to bed now, Dirk. Whatever you're working on, your lab partners can pick up the sla-"

"No, Jake. I said I was going to do it and now I have to," Dirk goes back to typing. You lay a hand on his forearm and say as seriously as you can...

"It's too late and I'll drag you to bed if I have to, Dirk. I swear I will," he looks over at you and turns back to his work. You grab his wrist and tug a little, "Dirk, please."

Dirk works his jaw a little, avoiding your eye. You can tell he's thinking it over. How many minutes he'll have in the morning. How early he'd have to get up to achieve the maximum number of hours. How much work he has left to do. You plead silently that he'll just come to bed, because you don't think that you'll actually be able to drag him there.

"Fine," he says, turning to the laptop, quickly saving his documents and closing it, "I'll come to bed." You grin.

"Thank you," you say simply, linking your arm with his and walking with him to the bedroom, turning off the lamp light along the way.

You turn off the tv and reach inside the dresser it sits on to throw Dirk, who is already undressing, a pair of loose pajama pants. The bed squeaks when you jump onto it and climb under the covers, pulling Dirk to you after he's dressed and kissing him lightly on his nose. Dirk wraps an arm around you and places the other beneath his head, yawning.

"By the way, Dirk, Roxy had an appointment set up for you to go see an eye doctor," he opened his mouth to object, "Nah-ah-ah. You know Roxy. You won't be able to skip out on this one, mate. Besides, _I_ think you need glasses. Don't think I didn't notice you squinting like an old man at that computer screen. I'd be blind to not notice!" you chuckle at your own joke.

Dirk just rolls his eyes, "Whatever you say, Mom."

"Oi, don't pull that with me, mister. They make prescription shades, you know... So at least you won't have to give up your trademarked look," you grin at him. He gives you a small smile back closing his eyes and touching his forehead to yours. You follow his lead, closing your eyes and succumbing to sleep.


End file.
